


Cold blood

by GeeWritesStuff11



Category: Loki (fandom), Loki - Fandom, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Possesive Loki, Smut, Smut from chapter 5 onward, Violence, reimagine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29283111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeWritesStuff11/pseuds/GeeWritesStuff11
Summary: With a dept weighing you down, your life was not yours to live. You had long stopped praying to the gods or waiting for a knight in shining armor to recue you. That was until he came into your life.You a prisoner in your own skinHim a fugitive from his lifeWhat could go wrong?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki (Marvel)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. All you wanted was a warm cup of tea and a bath

The night seemed darker than usual or maybe it was just the absence of working lampposts that made it seem that way. It also felt colder, the skimpy dress you wore did absolutely nothing to help you against the odd spring chill. Phil had left you closer than the other guys do but still it was far enough to make goosebumps cover your naked legs. With every step you took you could feel your dress hitching up, the light jacket you wore above it served more of as a cover for your butt than for what it was meant to do.

It was also a silent night, the clock marked no more than 1:00 am but everyone seemed to already be asleep. Only the sounds of your heals clacking on the sidewalk and the odd dog barking in the distance could be heard, even the crickets and cicadas seemed to have called it a night. Still, your thoughts were loud enough so it made not much of a difference. It was one of _those nights_ , those that were so calm that your mind felt the need to fill the silence with intrusive thoughts. It willed you to overthink; think about your life and all you had done to get there. Think of what you could have done differently, the decisions you had made, some assertive some…not so much.

It was enough to drive anyone crazy, bathing your mind, body, and soul in regret... but not you. You were way passed regret at that point. Yes, you had been plagued with it before but that was long passed. Now it was resignation.

Yeah, the thought of resignation alone was a sad one, but it still brought a grim smirk to your lips. Cynicism had become you in the past years.

You kept walking amidst the maze of trailers, some of the windows were painted by the flashing lights from televisions long forgotten by sleeping people or even some being watched by the random night owl.

You were thankful for the loneliness, that meant no wondering eyes filled with disgust or with amusement. Because that was what you would get most of the time, that, and some whispered words with the only goal of making you feel ashamed of yourself. Of course, those came from the moralists, the bold would wish you a good night and sometimes even ask how much you charged. To those you would only answer: "You can’t afford me". They would laugh and leave you alone. The people around there were mostly harmless, and even if they were not you were always ready for trouble. The small pistol the boss gave you was tucked in your jacket’s right pocket weighing it down, giving you an almost askew appearance.

In no time you were passing the flashing lamppost that stood right in front of your home. All you wanted was a warm cup of tea and a bath, you would need a good scrub to get the glitter from the dress off your body. You could always go without it but already your skin itched from the cheap fabric and its tacky glittery texture.

You already had a foot on the steps that led to your small porch when your eyes landed on him. He was slung forward onto the door, one hand rattling it, trying to get it open. Your hand was at the small pistol and taking it out in a second. Turning to the street made it obvious he was alone; you had not noticed any unfamiliar vehicles near either. A robber without a getaway or an accomplice. Well, no one said criminals were exactly brilliant, but this was quiet a stretch. On the other hand, going against one in 6-inch heels and a mini dress was not a very bright idea either.

"Hey asshole, get away from my fucking door" Your voice rang out through the silent night making some dogs in neighboring houses bark. You were glad to sound much more confident than you felt, you squared your shoulders up and pointed the gun in his direction.

He turned to look at you painfully slow, and what you could see of his face from the flickering light made you gasp and almost forget he was trying to get into your house. One of his eyes was completely closed with the skin around it a dark purple, more bruises covered that same side of his face, his lip was bleeding and very swollen. He was a mess, to say so lightly.

"I said get away from my door" You repeated, now with less volume but the same resolve.

A weird noise started to come from his mouth, it sounded like wheezing. He put up his hands in a placating gesture, his body leaning against the door. You immediately noticed one of the hands he held up was covered in blood.

"Help" he managed to speak in a voice so soft that you would not have heard if the night had not been so silent. It was like witnessing a car crash, you could not take your eyes away from him but neither did you feel the need to do anything but that.

You did not have a phone on you and to be honest you had no idea what you were supposed to do in this type of situations. Before you could even begin to think further, his legs seemed to give out under him, and he collapsed. On instinct you put the gun back into your pocket and raced up the steps to where he lay on his side, now with both eyes closed.

Up close even with little lighting you could get a better look at him. What you noticed first was the weird assortment of clothes he was wearing, he looked straight out of one of those fantasy movies, all in dark leather of some sort with pieces of fabric crisscrossing his chest and small golden details at his sides.

His face was a mess but that did not explain his collapse. Pushing him onto his back gave you the answer. Plunged into his abdomen was a jagged piece of metal, the part that stuck out was slick with blood. A dark stain covered a good part of his stomach.

Your hands went to his neck trying to find a pulse, the fact that you could feel your own heartbeat vibrating in your head and all through your body made it almost impossible, but after a calming breath or two you were able to find it, slow and weak but it was there. You looked around trying to think of your options.

The neighbors were a no-no, they were not exactly a very supporting community. The police were also a negative, the boss would not like you getting under their radar, and you could bet anything his people would be at your door before the police.

Leaving him there was also a call for trouble. _Oh! Damn him! Why couldn’t he have chosen another house to call for help?_ As much as you tried to act like a cold bitch you could not just leave him there out to die. You closed your eyes but even in the darkness you could still see his bloodied body, broken and pale.

In what can only be described as a rash decision, you got your keys into the doorknob with shaking hands and opened it, turning the lights on, and flooding the small porch in light.

The light made him look even worse, his skin looked ghostly pale, cuts and splotches of blood making a gruesome design on his skin. Not wanting to hurt him even more you pulled him by his clothes. He was very heavy, but then again, he looked to be a good 6 feet and although quite thin he was by no means a small man. Just moving him into the middle of the living room, had a stitch pulling at your side from the effort. You closed the door to the trailer, even forgetting the keys that were still attached on the outside.

When the lock clicked behind you, the danger of the situation you were in washed over you tenfold. You knew this was probably a bad idea. This man could be dangerous, he could be a killer or a rapist. There was a reason he was so badly injured; _and_ someone could still be after him trying to finish him of. But when you turned to him again you knew you could not just leave him out to die, and like that the decision was made.

And well, even if he _was_ dangerous, he was in no state to start a fight. You could easily overpower him if you had to, the pistol in your pocket was pressed into your side in an almost reassuring way.

The shock of the situation filled your body with adrenaline making your mind go quiet and your hands become steady. You half ran into the kitchen, your hands opening drawers and cupboards looking for what you would need. Alcohol, scissors, bandages for his wound. A bottle of tequila for your nerves. It all went inside a big salad bowl that you set beside his body as you kneeled to inspect his most serious injury. The tequila burned your throat as you reached for the scissors.

All you had wanted was a cup of tea and a bath but then again it was _one of those nights_.


	2. Divine punishments

You had needed another shot of tequila before finally going through with your facet as a nurse. _I should have just left him outside_ you thought to yourself, but in a beat your mind betrayed you _do you really need that in your conscience? Letting a man die when you could have done something!_

Sometimes you really hated yourself and your over thinking brain.

When you focused your attention on the goal on hand the first problem you encountered was getting access to the wound and the fact that the piece of metal that stuck out of his stomach looked very much stuck into the leather of his shirt made your options few, especially if you did not want to hurt him further. Just a pull or sudden movement could make the makeshift weapon come out and cause more bleeding, which by the way his shirt already seemed soaked in blood, could be bad _. What if I end up killing him instead of helping, why am I doing this again?_

Your small scissors just did not seem to do anything to the fabric of the man’s clothes. You knew that getting the shirt off was not going to work so you opted for cutting it to give access, but it proved impossible. Whatever kind of leather it was, it certainly was not of the cheap kind. It was almost impossible to even fold it between your fingers when you sought a better angle to cut it.

You were tempted into using a knife, but you knew it was not going to work. The top was also too tight to try getting the metal out carefully by ridding it up. In desperation you looked to the sides hoping to find a zipper. There was no zipper, but what before you believed to be ornate pieces of golden plaque were actually buttons. You undid them with clumsy fingers trying to make fast work of them. When they were undone you thought it would give you access but it only revealed the laces underneath that tied the garment in a corset like form. Fancy but also totally unnecessary.

You groaned as you found the ends of the string tied in a neat knot at the very bottom. It felt like forever when you were able to untie the whole thing. With care you lifted it slowly of his body. Stopping when you reached the part that had the metal thing embedded in it. Carefully you lifted the hard leather of the metal, it was a slow process that you knew would probably be worse if the man was awake. When the metal and the clothes were separated you took the rest of it off. Underneath he wore a simple long-sleeved shirt that was no match against your scissors. 

What awaited under it all was enough to make you reach for more liquid courage.

The skin around the weapon was red and raised, almost like it had been moved around after being put into the skin, all around it blood had already started to harden. But it was not the only wound, farther up almost at his heart there was a similar looking wound, you could tell it was made by a similar weapon by its form. It was not really wide but more long, how deep it was you couldn’t tell but you guessed that was where most of the blood came from.

The skin of his torso was a mixture of colors, he had what you guessed were already old bruises. All painted different shades of blue and purple, some already had tinges of green or yellow where they were starting to heal and lose color. He was pale to the point that you immediately sought his heart looking for its beating. You did that 3 times, making sure that the coldness of his skin and the slight blue tint it took in some parts were completely normal and that you had nothing to worry about. _I'm doing the right thing, an ambulance would have taken too long and asked too many questions. I'm doing the right thing...  
_

First you tackled the wound that was open, it seemed like it had already stopped bleeding, so it wasn’t so hard. You cleaned it through with all the small bottles of antiseptic and alcohol you had, making sure it seemed ok. You knew it would heal faster if it was sewed up or even cauterized but your bravery got so far, so you just made sure the skin around it was very clean and started to put gauzes atop it and pinning them down with medical tape, hoping it would be enough.

Then it was turn for the one with the metal still in it. You were already stretching for the bottle but stopped. You needed to still be sober enough for this, more alcohol could make you sloppy, so you pushed the bottle to the side. In a rush of bravado, you wrapped your fingers around the metal, they slipped on it from all the blood covering it. Without thinking too much about it you pulled. _Why do I have to be nice? I should not be doing this! Is this a divine punishment for being a bitch sometimes?_ You could picture god with his angels around him, all watching you on some divine television and laughing their asses off. 

The rush of blood that the wound let out was surprising for such a small wound, quickly you put the gauze on it and applied pressure. The material quickly was wet and although you had never been squeamish, the warmness of the blood had you feeling some type of way. But you did not pull back. Grinding your teeth, you stayed put. With one hand you applied pressure and with the other you reached toward the sofa where one of your shirts lay, you needed something else to absorb the blood or the living room would end up looking like a crime scene. Feeling sorry for the shirt you put it on top of the gauze, the spread of the blood looked less dramatic now. You waited, needing for the flow of the blood to stop before treating it. When you thought enough time had passed you took the chance and took the now ruined shirt and gauze from the wound, they had already started to stick to the open skin.

You did fast work of cleaning it and bandaging it up methodically. When the two wounds were patched up you cleaned the blood from his stomach, the new blood came out fast but underneath it there was already a coat of dried-up blood that did not seem to want to get off his skin, you patiently scrubbed a rag over it, until it was as good as you could do. There were still some on his skin but that would come of when he next showered. You then went to his face. The small cuts and swollen skin were nothing compared to what you had already done so you did it feeling much calmer.

Then, you checked his hands remembering how they had looked earlier, you cleaned the blood that also covered them, his left hand was cut on the inside from holding onto something, so you cleaned and bandaged that up to.

It felt like a lifetime when finally, you took a step back and sat with your back against the sofa, just looking at him. He still looked quite bad but not as scary as before covered in blood.

Rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains almost shyly, sensing that you were not ready for it to be morning just yet. It had taken many hours to cure the man and both you and your living room were a mess.

You wanted to stay there for a moment just to catch your breath, but you knew that if you stayed still you would probably fall asleep. So, you got up, picking up all the blooded material you had used, it all went in the bowl. You would have to get rid of it somehow. It was a shame but then again you had never really used that bowl.You knew you could not leave him just like that bare chested and sprawled on the floor his clothes soaked in blood or cut up, so you grabbed an old blanket and covered him from his neck down and tucked him in it. It did not reach his feet, but it was his torso that worried you. Under his head you placed a small cushion that you used as more a decoration than a real pillow, but it would at least help against the cold and hard floor.

You also grabbed an old bed sheet and split it in half, one half went to his right wrist and the other on the left, one tied to the foot of the sofa and the other to the coffee table, the knots tied and pulled with all the strength you had.

Only then did you leave the room.

* * *

When you woke up it was past midday, your mind felt groggy and heavy from lack of sleep. You had barely slept that night, having spent a few more hours washing out all the blood that covered your hands, and the glitter from your body. By the time you got out of the shower the water was freezing cold and your fingers resembled raisins. Your mind went into overdrive then, thinking about all the implications of what you had just done. You could get into serious trouble, but you hoped that whoever this man was he would not bring more problems to your doorstep. _Maybe he will be so thankful that he won’t involve me in whatever shady stuff he’s involved in,_ that was your last thought before you fell asleep.

You paced in front of your bedroom door hyping yourself up. It was ridiculous but you felt nervous to go into the living room where _he_ was. _What if he died what the hell am I going to do then?_ The thought had you facepalming yourself. _Or what if whoever did that to him found him and took him away_ that was unlikely unless they had a radar to find him or something _. What if he got up in the middle of the night and stole all my possessions and left!_ That made you scoff, you had nothing of value for him to steal.

_Get your shit together_

You breathed in and out, calming yourself as you opened the door expecting to find the place trashed. But no, everything was just as you left it. You walked to the man, he lay fast asleep still in the same position you had left him, he had not fidgeted at all in his sleep. You pulled the covers away from his neck and felt for his pulse. It was there, just as slow as when last you checked. You felt his chest and noticed the skin was cold, not freezing like last night but definitely not what you expected. You went back into your room and came back carrying another blanket that you put over him.

You knew you had things to do, it was late, and you had work. So, you tried forgetting there was an unconscious man lying in the middle of your living room and went to the kitchen to deal with all the bloodied stuff you had picked up from last night. You knew you had to get rid of everything but just throwing bloodied stuff in the trash did not seem like a good idea, so you tried washing all the blood from it before throwing it away.

You needed all your cleaning supplies and a lot of patience.

The work was dull, but it helped to keep you calm and to completely dissociate yourself to what was happening. Your hands worked with a mind of their own, your mind for a moment forgetting it was blood you were cleaning. When you finished washing everything you did a complete wash through of your house, cleaning every surface and putting everything into its rightful place. When you reached the living room you walked around the sleeping body successfully ignoring it.

The clock told you it was time for lunch before your body did, so you went into the kitchen and started to make something quick. Only then did you remember your _guest_. You made 2 more servings, with his size and the amount of blood had lost he would need a big meal _~~if~~_ when he woke up.

The hours passed in a haze while you got ready to leave for work, you tried making as little noise as possible this so that if the man woke up you would notice right away. To your dismay he did not wake up, he didn’t even move or snore or anything. His silence made you constantly check up on him, either by searching for a pulse or putting a mirror under his nose to see if he was still breathing. Each time you did this you would turn to the clock and see how much time you had left before having to leave. By the time the clock marked 4:30 you lost all hope of him waking up before you left.

You had your bag at your shoulder and keys in hand when a wave of kindness hit you, you could not just leave him like that. He would probably wake up very confused and thirsty. You made your way to the kitchen and served a big glass of water and some fruit, you placed it at hands reach from where he lay. Close enough so if he woke up, he’d be able to reach it but far enough so that if he fidgeted, he wouldn’t knock the water down. You gave him one last look over before closing the door behind you.

* * *

You couldn’t stop fidgeting, so much that the girls standing close to you were looking at you with more disdain than usual. Oh but you couldn’t help it, you kept looking at your watch every few minutes as if by doing so you’d make time go by faster. It also happened to be freezing outside and the guy watching over the “business” had a very strict no coat rule.

“How’s anyone gonna buy if we hide the merchandise!” He had answered with a smirk when you’d told him you were freezing.

 _Bastard!_ Meanwhile he stood there bundled up in his jacket, even wearing a frickin beanie. As if shivering and freezing your ass off made you any more appealing to the male gaze. You could only stare dagger his way and clench your fists in anger. 

You were about to reach for your watch again when an old car pulled up in front of you. As always, jacket guy would go to the car first, he’d talk to whoever was in the passenger seat. A couple of exchanged words and a quick handshake that hid a few rolled up bills behind it and he would point to one of the girls standing by. You knew it was your turn before he even pointed to you, the gruff voice that came from the car was one you knew well. You took your seat at the passenger seat, he closed the door behind you and you were gone.

“You’re going to catch a cold little bird” The driver said in way of a greeting.

“Being cold resistant comes with the job big guy.” You laughed.

“How about a burger?”

“Sounds great.”

You were quiet through the short ride, the radio played in the background barely audible. It was a companiable silence, one that had long ago stopped being awkward. Many times, you had ridden the passenger seat with whoever happened to pick you up, Phil was one of the nicer ones. He’d always make small talk and buy you a burger, it made you wish they were all like him, but you knew it came with him being older. The younger guys would always be more serious, straight to the point and not bothering about being rude in the process.

Once you each had your burgers, he drove away from the city lights, it was late so most of the parking lots in front of stores or restaurants were empty. He parked in the corner of one that stood to the side of some small business plaza that had closed many hours ago, insuring you there would be less chance of someone randomly passing by.

“Well, let’s get to it shall we?” He whispered lifting his hand to the small light that illuminated the car from the ceiling, at his touch it left you both in complete darkness. Knowing the drill, you started feeling around with your hand, the darkness of the car so intense you could only see the outline of things at a certain height. When finally, you found what you were looking for, your hands went straight to the zipper. You opened it and plunged your hand inside, feeling around for it and pulling it out when your hand found it.

You closed the zipper again, not wanting the rest of the small packages you still had to deliver to fall out of your bag. You handed the one already in your hand to phil. He quickly pocketed it inside his coat. “Boss says to keep your head low, there’s been some people from out of state snooping around.”

“Been hearing some rumors at the warehouse, I hope they _are_ just rumors.” He kept his voice down, passing you your burger in the process and starting to unwrap his own.

“Is it bad?” You asked before biting into your food.

“Yeah! Makes me want to pay my debt even faster. I don’t know how you do it; you’ve been doing this for longer than me and your job is worse.”

“It’s not so bad.” You shrug even though he cannot see you “How’s your wife?” you quickly change the subject.

“She’s doing great, the business is flourishing.” He answered sounding pleased.

“Glad to hear that.”

“How about your family” he asked between chews.

“They’re ok” You murmured.

“Good, family’s all that matters.” He mussed throwing his wrapper out the window and starting the car up again.

“Yeah, they are.” You agreed.

* * *

Work had managed to distract you at least a bit from what awaited you, but as you stood in front of your door reality hit you with full force. Your heart had already started to beat at a nearly dangerous pace.

Your hand shook when you finally put the key into the lock and twisted it, unlocking the door. _Fuck it!_ Your nerves had you almost slamming the door against the wall, you managed to catch yourself in time luckily and closed it, careful not to make any noise. The living room was dark, but the light of the moon was strong enough to go through the barely their curtain and illuminate enough for you to move around without having to turn on the lights.

You walked to him and did the usual check-up; his pulse was a bit better and he looked like he had moved in his sleep, the water and food at his side remained untouched. You pulled the blankets higher until they were tucked under his chin and proceeded to leave him alone. 

For good measure you left the door of your room opened this time, _at least while I’m awake_ you told yourself. You went through your usual night routine, showering and changing with the silent tv lighting up the otherwise dark room. The normality of it made you so distracted that you didn’t hear the groan that came form the living room.

The groaning continued and grew higher in volume, so much that it managed to break through your concentration. You raised you head in attention listening to the weird noise that disturbed the silent house, it was then that realization hit _._

_He’s awake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is AWAKE!!!! So excited for next chapter! As always kuddos, comments and feedback are very welcome!   
> xoxo G
> 
> https://whatwoulddracodo.tumblr.com/


	3. Nonnegotiable

You were frozen in place, unable to do anything but listen to his whimpers. For all the over thinking you had done you had not really thought of what you would do when he woke up.

It was obvious that he would, sooner or later, but now faced with it made you fear for yourself. You knew you had to face this no matter how scared you were of him. Because let’s be honest, you were terrified. It was like when you approach an animal in the street, you do not know if it’ll let you pet it or if it’ll bite your hand off, the unpredictability of it was what had you so nervous.

It was with shaky legs that you managed to get up and walk slowly to the open door, from the frame you could see him moving. His eyes were still closed but his face was scrunched up in what you could guess was pain _or maybe he’s just dreaming_ , he was stretching his arms over his head as far as the makeshift restraints you’ve made let him.

If he kept doing that, he could make his wounds start to bleed again. “I wouldn’t move so much if I were you” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. His eyes immediately sprang open, or at least one of them did, the other remained just a slit open.

_Shit_

You walked quickly into the living room, making sure to be in his line of sight, this time it was you who lifted your hands in a placating gesture. “Easy there, you really don’t want to make your wounds bleed.”

You expected him to be confused from the sudden company of a stranger and from the unfamiliar surroundings, what you did not expect was the venomous look he gave you. “Who are you?” He spat.

In hindsight, you know there were 2 ways you could have handled the situation, he was a wounded man that was probably still in pain, so the best route was to be patient and in the kindest way possible explain what had happened, refreshing his memory, and also letting him know the severity of his state. That was the way any levelheaded person would proceed, but then again you were not the best keeping your temper in check. So, you took the _other_ route.

“Excuse me! Who the fuck are _you_?” You spat back. He was taken aback from your response, staring at you for a moment before he started moving. You watched as he planted his hands at his sides to push himself up but stopped hallway up, a soft hiss escaping him. His hand went to one of his wounds which were now on display from where the blankets had slid down his body leaving his torso bare.

“What did you do to me woman?”

“Me?” You gasped in outrage “ _You_ arrived at _my_ door trying to break into _my_ house covered in blood and barely able to walk. I saved _your_ life your git!” You knew it was a bit dramatic saying you had saved his life but just the nerve of accusing you was enough o go into fight mode, fear be damned.

Your words seemed to have some effect on him. He gave up on trying to get up and let himself fall back onto the floor with a huff, glanced around your living room with critical eyes.

“You call this a house?” he spat eyeing the faded sofas.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t the one trying to break in.” You countered; you knew it wasn’t much but you liked your little house. _How dare he._

“I don’t really remember that. My memory is foggy.” He admitted with clenched teeth. “where am I exactly?”

You told him the name of your town but that only made him look back at you, his eyebrows raised. You added your state, but it held no more meaning to him. “Planet earth, someplace in the milky way” You added sarcastically but for a reason it seemed that last part held more meaning to him than what you had said before.

“Wha…” his sentence was cut short by a bust of coughing that had him shaking all over, his shoulders moved in a violent way that almost had you groaning and keeping your eyes on his wounds, ready for splotches of red to appear on the white gauze. He kept coughing for a whole minute, the sound akin to that of someone who had a long history of smoking. you had half a mind to let him choke from his earlier remark but again your nice side took over.

Walking to his side you picked up the glass of water you had left earlier and passed it to him. He stretched his hand out for the glass and in doing so noticed the makeshift handcuffs that tied him to the furniture. He drank the water before speaking again.

“Am I being held prisoner?” his voice was the same flat baritone. You ignored his question and instead asked a question of your own. 

“I know I am no one to ask but seeing as you are in my house I need to know if there are people after you.”

He considered your question for a moment, his silence stretching to the point where you thought he would not answer but he did.

“No.” was his simple answer.

“I’m glad to hear that, I didn’t really like the thought of having my throat slit in my sleep. And that applies to you too.” You searched his face for any reaction of what you gad just implied, but it remained blank.

“I do not have the habit of slitting peoples throats _in their sleep”_ He answered finally breaking eye contact and instead looked to the window.

“I’m glad to hear that. What’s your name?” He took a moment to answer, it made you think he was probably coming up with a false name.

“Loki.”

“Loki? Like the god?” You giggled.

“Exactly”

“Wow your parents must have been big mythology nerds” You joked, more to yourself than to him.

“How bad are my injuries?” He changed the subject clearly not appreciating your humor.

Flashes of that night filled your head. You could feel the warmness of the blood on your hands and the way your heart had beated so fast you felt like you too may die while trying to get the metal out of his body. It was hard to summarize everything that had gone through your mind then, all you managed was: “Well, you lost a lot of blood. You had a piece of metal in your stomach.”

“Do you still have it?”

“No.” You tried to look as honest as possible when he looked back to you, eyes narrowed.

“By any chance was it golden with jagged edges?”

“It was.” You nodded remembering the small weapon that now lay in one of your kitchen drawers waiting to be thrown away.

“Hmmm yes seems like it” His hand was absentmindedly touching his wounds as he spoke in barely more than a whisper.

“Is it some kind of special weapon or something?”

“Yes”. _Maybe I will not be throwing it out then, just in case._

“Was there a reason you were trying to get in my house or was it random.” The question was a weird one, but it had popped into your head at that moment.

“I do not understand.”

“I mean, do you know someone near and were perhaps looking for their home and got confused and ended up here?”

“No, I know no one from _here.”_ He turned away again, this time closing his eyes. You could not help feeling irritated at his way of simply dismissing you. You had a feeling he would probably ignore any other question you made him you turned to your room; you were halfway to your door when he spoke up again.

“Girl?” You inhaled; out of all the things he could have called you girl was possibly the worst. You _hated_ being called girl with a passion. It always felt like people used to to belittle.

“Yes?”

“Can you untie me?”

It was your turn to take your time answering even if you already knew the answer.

“No. Good night”

* * *

Your mind kept reminding you that there was a stranger sleeping in your living room and the only thing separating you was an old door that although locked could very well be opened with a good kick. You had been lying in bed, unmoving with your senses on full alert. The satisfaction from denying untying him had long faded away.

You did not hear anything, no snores or even fidgeting. Although the house was completely silent, it unnerved you. Silence was always bittersweet for you, normally it would only take a bit of background noise to make it less constricting but now it was just driving you mad. It made even your breathing sound too loud for your ears. And in that moment, you wanted to be as quiet as the house around you, perhaps it was your increasing levels of panic that made you unwilling to disturb it. It was like you too were trying to silence your presence, your conciseness, your existence.

Silence could mean a lot of things and the past days you had accepted his silence, even if it _had_ worried you. Then, his silence held the threat of him not waking up, it held tension from all the ways this could backfire on you. Now his silence held a completely different meaning, he was awake and that brought even more consequences.

You knew the lack of sleep was taking you down a dark place in your mind but no matter how much you tried to fall asleep you were very much awake and you knew it would stay that way for a few more painful hours. Your mind was going in circles. And it was all his fault…in a way.

A few hours ago, you had been dreading him dying in your house. As you had noticed small improvements in his state, him dying had evolved into him waking up while you were not home which brought other ramifications: like him destroying your home maybe looking for money and valuable or just for the fun of it. You had also thought of all the trouble that could find its way to your door from people looking for him and finding him in your home.

And now that he was awake all those scenarios you had conjured up were still very much present but now that he was awake the list of worries increased. Yes, he still looked very weak, being barely able to sit up but still. _He could always have faked that to get you of guard_ It was a possibility.

_He could be waiting for me to fall asleep and try to kill me_ the thought was enough to have your pulse quickening. Kindness was a value they encourage into you from a young age but oh boy is it hard, they do not tell you all the things that can come from you doing an act of kindness. Then again this was not your average situation.

You pulled at your hair trying to calm yourself down, it was not the moment to fall into hysterics. You breathed in, letting your lungs expand and break through the panic that constructed them making it feel almost painful but satisfying at the same time. The rhythmic movement of your chest gave you something else to focus on helping to quiet down your brain.

Everything would be alright, you tried to reason with yourself, you would kick him out tomorrow and that would be the end of it. You would never see him again, and if you ever came home to another person calling for help, no matter how badly hurt, you would ignore it and just keep on walking.

Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

* * *

From the moment you woken up you had tried to make the less noise possible. It was ridiculous considering it was your house and he was just an unwelcome guest you could kick out at any given time, but the truth was that even though he was wounded and weak he still intimidated you. Maybe it was the way he had almost blead out and still managed to have an attitude when he woke up or maybe it was the fact that he looked at you the way you look at bugs.

You had spent a good hour lying in bed faking sleep. To whom? Well to yourself. You wanted to postpone getting up as much as possible and the fact that you did not have to work made procrastination possible. Your stomach had started growling just a few minutes into consciousness, but you ignored it.

You could hear your neighbors moving around outside and the off car driving past but still no sound came from inside. You wondered if he was awake. What if he were waiting for you to show up so he could leave or what if he had already left.

If would surely make things easier. A sudden pressure at your side made you flinch. That time it was your bladder and as much as ignoring it was an option, you knew it would not be long before you had to get up.

It only took about 10 minutes before you felt like you really needed to get up. You were thankful for the bathroom being inside your room instead of in the living room because when you got up you had to half walk half run with your legs firmly pressed together. It was not a good look and you sure as hell did not want anyone seeing you do that.

Once inside the bathroom you managed to waste another 15 minutes doing the whole bathroom/shower/teeth routine. The shower helped not only to keep you calm but also to make you feel a little more like yourself and a little less like the anxious mess you had been the night before. You had a plan, and you would stick to it, and you would make all the noise you normally made. You would not be intimidated in your own home. _Get your shit together._

Before you exited the room, you made sure to put your small revolver on the dresser that stood beside the door, just in case you needed it. You took a deep breath and went into the living room, walked past the sleeping man and straight into the kitchen.

Your hands shook slightly as you prepared your breakfast, but you were proud of yourself, even if you did flinch when you placed the pan on the stove with a bit too much force making a loud noise. You knew he was still asleep, now being so close to him and without a door separating you, you could hear his steady breathing.

You made enough breakfast for the both of you in another spout of kindness and ate your part calmly. You would go back into your room and just wait for him to wake up and leave. _The plan, just follow the plan._ You kept repeating it to yourself as you washed your plate and cup. Fortunately, you did not have to wait longer for him to wake up, you went into the living room and already two green eyes were expecting you. You stopped in your tracks and cleared your throat thinking of what to say, you settled on a simple “How are you feeling?”

“Better”

“How much better” You pressed him.

“I will live” He answered simply.

“Can you sit up?”

“Yes” he snaped back defensively, _men_.

“Would you like some breakfast” You offered trying to keep the exchange as positive as possible.

“Yes”

You went back into the kitchen feeling annoyed, _was a please too much to ask_. You were trying to be nice, the last he could do was be polite. When you gave him his plate you left him to eat alone feeling it would be awkward to just stay there watching him eat. So instead, you went to your room like you had previously planned.

You turned on the television onto the news channel, making it useful to chase away the silence. You sat down and watched it; your eyes stuck to the screen but not really paying it any attention. You would normally spend your day of work sleeping and doing chores, but the chores were done, and you knew sleep was not an option. You flicked through channels wanting to find something good, but there were only news and those cringey early morning shows. You settled on an old movie that was always being played, you had seen it probably a good 20 times but the familiarity of it was comforting to your tired brain. You managed to loose yourself in it, that was intil the credits started rolling and more pressing matters returned to mind. You estimated a good hour and a half had passed meaning he’d be done eating and would be ready to leave. So, you got up feeling a bit lighter, he would be leaving very very soon. You could almost smile at the thought; overthinking was a habit of yours but having one less think to worry over was very welcome. When you walked into the living room he was not eating, the empty plate lay beside him, but he was covered head to toe in the blanket. It was odd, seeing as it was quite warm inside. You couldn’t tell if he was asleep again but in honesty you only had one thing in mind so you didn’t care if you woke him.

“Hey you alright?” You asked tentatively but loud enough for him to hear if he _was_ asleep.

“I…I think I have a fever” Came his muffled voice from the inside of the blanket.

A fever _! Shit shit shit_ you were not a doctor, but you knew a fever was a very bad thing to get after being stabbed. It could mean one of his wounds was infected. Not caring about personal space you kneeled beside him, peeling the blankets back enough to let you place your hand over his forehead. The skin was hot, it felt almost weird after always being freezing. But it by no means felt hot enough to be a fever.

“It doesn’t feel like a fever, you’re just hot from being wrapped up in the blanket” you reasoned, thinking that maybe he was trying to pass of as sick to get to stay longer.

“This is how a fever feels on me” His voice was softer and surprisingly did not hold the edge that it had earlier and the day before. Maybe it was that little detail that made made you humor him.

“Ok just get the blanket of.” You started pulling the blanket of him.

“No! I’m cold” He pushed your hand away.

“Oh my god, are you 5? Give me!” He relented after a few tugs; the blankets were barely off his chest when horror washed over you. Without the blankets he was shirtless with nothing on but the gauzes covering his wounds, said gauzes were no longer white.

“Your wounds, their bleeding! Didn’t you notice?” He only groaned in response.

“This isn’t good.” You mumbled, your eyes still looking at the gauzes. When you looked back at him his eyes were closed. “Loki, hey! Don’t fall asleep!”

“Tired”

“I know but don’t fall asleep.” You snapped, now starting to believe his claims about the fever. Panic again making itself present.

“Annoying”

“You little…” You didn’t even finish the sentence and instead ran to the kitchen where the first aid kit was still on one of the counters. Inside you found your trusty ibuprofen bottle, You noticed The gauzes were down to 2 and when you grabbed the antiseptic the bottle felt too light, its contents were down to less than half. You would have to make do with what you had. You also grabbed a clean hand towel and rinsed it, until it was soaking. You hastily washed your hands and carried everything back into the living room, leaving a small trail of water from the towel. You placed the soaking towel on his forehead first. His hands came up probably to get it off, but you slapped them away.

“Cold.”

“Yeah, that’s the point” you muttered as you proceeded to take away the bloodied gauzes and looked carefully at the wounds, they looked better and did not smell or have any visible altering around the skin. It made the fever even more worrisome. It took a lot of coaxing for him to take the ibuprofen, but he relented. Still, you knew if it was an infection it wouldn’t make much of a difference. 

“I need to call a doctor. I can clean the wounds but there’s nothing I can do about the fever.”

“no. ‘s alright”

“No, it won’t be, I am not a Doctor! The wound may be infected, and I can’t do more for you.” You started getting up, you had to get the phone and call an ambulance. But before you managed to lift yourself up a vicelike grip took hold of your arm stopping you.

“No”

“I can’t handle this.” You tried reasoning.

“No one can know I’m here”

“You said no one was looking for you” He didn’t answer “Look…”

“No, I’ll be alright. ‘m strong, it’ll pass” His words were slightly slurred.

“But.”

“No. Sit.” He pulled until you were again on the ground. He didn’t open his eyes, but his grip didn’t loosen. You pulled the blanket completely off him making him shiver and his skin cover with goosebumps. You stayed there just watching over him, seeing his chest rise and fall slowly. You took the rag on his forehead and turned it the other way, so the cold side went on his forehead. He grunted again from the temperature change.

“It’ll be good for you.”

“Says who?” he whispered.

“My mother and Mothers are always right”

“That they are, at least mine always was.”

You searched your brain for something to say, keep him talking the more you could, so he would not fall asleep. “Poor woman with a kid like you” It came as a surprise when he laughed, it was short and soft. And even though his face was all colors and covered in cuts and bruises it make him look less intimidating. It suited him. 

“My mother loves me greatly, I’m her favorite.” He said defensive, almost sounding child like in a way.

“What’s her name.”

“Freya”

“Of course, it is” you tried to not sound mocking.

“You don’t believe me” It was not a question.

“I do” you suppressed a chuckle and went along with him “Does that mean you do magic like her.”

“Yes”

“Wow” You flipped the towel again and tried to clean up the droplets that had slid down his face.

“She taught me herself. Great woman, my mother.” He continued talking without prompting.

“She sounds like a good person.” You acknowledged now unable to look away from him.

“She is. I love her.” Your conversation ended there. He had fallen asleep, even though you knew you should not let him.

You felt something weird. It was…compassion. You had not really thought much of him from your first interactions but now you couldn’t help but wonder how bad could the guy be? He was hallucinating from the fever and his mind made him talk about how great his mother was, that had to count for something. _Right?_

You felt defeated, your humanitarian side winning over your other more straight to the point side. You could not help it as you looked over him, he was all beat up, barely able to sit up. How could you just kick him out, you groaned not caring if you woke him. As nice as your little conversation had been you knew it was because he was not completely himself, you had seen how he was normally: obnoxious and quite snobbish.

New plan: you would let him stay another day, but no more than that. And this time it was nonnegotiable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! As always hope you like the chapter. Feedback and comments are always welcome.  
> xoxo G
> 
> https://whatwoulddracodo.tumblr.com/


End file.
